


Only in the Taste of Tea

by elistaire



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:23:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I am in no way interested in immortality,</i><br/><i>But only in the taste of tea.</i><br/>-Lu Tung, Song of Tea, Tang Dynasty poet</p><p>A bad guy wants Amanda to do a little job for him, so he kidnaps Duncan (and Methos) to convince her to help. Turns out, he wants a special tea that is supposed to make the drinker immortal.  How can three Immortals involved in his bad guy shenanigans not take some revenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only in the Taste of Tea

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted July 10, 2010

_I am in no way interested in immortality,_  
_But only in the taste of tea._  
-Lu Tung, Song of Tea, Tang Dynasty poet

~~~

There came a breeze of a warning, as soft as the beating of a butterfly’s wings, and Duncan swam up to consciousness from a hard sleep to see that two men dressed head to toe in black were in his loft. Duncan moved to intercept just as soon as he saw them, but a sharp sting to his chest allowed him only to make it to the edge of the bed before his limbs failed him. As he succumbed to unconsciousness, he sensed a flurry of activity from the corner of his eye, and remembered that Methos had been sleeping on the couch.

~~~

When Duncan woke up—with a tremendous headache and entirely numb arms—he discovered he was handcuffed to a bar that had been bolted into the wall. He took quick stock of the situation.

The room was empty save for Methos, who was still passed out, and who was similarly shackled. Every shard of furniture had been removed from the room, which appeared to be the inside of a house. There was one window, darkened and locked, which had just the barest few cracks showing daylight.

Duncan stood up to relieve the pressure on his handcuffed arms. He was just able to stretch out a foot and give Methos a nudge with his toe. Methos didn’t stir, and Duncan could only surmise that he’d been given at least one dose of the tranquilizer, possibly more. Knowing Methos, it was probably more.

Duncan closed his eyes and strained to listen. Everything seemed quiet enough. He could hear an occasional car outside, meaning they were somewhat near to a road. He could hear birds and the indistinct sounds of insects. He could not hear if anyone was in the house with them or not.

He gave the air a sniff, but he’d already been there too long, and nothing but the vague smell of dust and disuse came to him.

He gave Methos another nudge with his toe and this time Methos groaned and opened his eyes. His gaze flicked across the room and settled on Duncan.

“Did we just get kidnapped?” he asked, speaking in a low tone.

Duncan nodded. “Looks like,” he whispered back.

Methos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s the trouble with mortals, you never feel them coming,” he said. He made a funny face, and then he spit something into his hand.  
Duncan looked on with interest. “Where did that come from?”

Methos didn’t bother to answer. He just spent a few seconds to pick the lock on his handcuffs with the thin metal rod. He shook his arms and hands out. “That’s better.” Then he picked Duncan’s cuffs, and finally the small device was brought to bear on the window lock. Methos ran his fingers across the edges, examining it closely. “Might be noisy to go out this way.”

Duncan gave his shoulders a quick stretch. “So we’ll leave through the front door.”

Methos looked thoughtful. “It’d be nice to know why they went to all the trouble to kidnap us.”

Duncan grinned. “We can ask them when we’ve got them tied to the wall.”

“They probably have more tranquilizer guns,” Methos reminded him. He moved carefully over to the door and listened closely.

Duncan followed him.

They both jumped when they heard a door slam.

“How’d it go?” asked a rough male voice.

“Smooth as pie. I handed the note over to the doorman. Ms. Moreau should have it by now.”  
Duncan and Methos looked at each other. “Amanda?” Duncan mouthed.

“Silk,” said the first voice. “Smooth as silk. Pie can be lumpy.”

“Smooth as silk, then. Same as when we grabbed her boyfriend. Easy piecey.”

“Peasy. Easy-peasy,” the rough voice sounded vaguely annoyed. “And it wasn’t that easy. Had to deal with his friend, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, but he wasn’t that much trouble.”

Duncan had to grin as Methos frowned at that, a crease showing between his eyebrows.

“Anyway, long as we have them, Ms. Moreau’ll do the job. And if we need to, they’ll be easy enough to dispose of.”

“Speaking of them. Are they awake yet?”

“Don’t know—haven’t checked in a few minutes.”

Duncan and Metho made wide eyes at each other and scrambled as silently as possible back to their handcuffs, dropping down into positions affecting unconsciousness just as the door squeaked open.

“Still out like a blight,” said the second voice, and the door squeaked closed.

“Out like a light,” said the first voice, somewhere between ultimate patience and complete irritation.

Duncan looked out at the room under his lashes, and convinced they were alone again, he stood up. “Window?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Methos said.

Duncan had not fully engaged the handcuffs again, in case he had to fight, and he saw that Methos had not either. With a knowing look at each other they eased up the window sash, which miraculously didn’t give them away.

Two minutes later, Duncan was splashing through a culvert with Methos at his heels, away from the house and the kidnappers, and heading to find Amanda.  
~~~

Amanda threw her arms around each of them, hugged them tight, kissed them on their temples, and wiped tears from her eyes before sagging melodramatically into a plush armchair. She waved an envelope and a letter at them.

“Thank heavens you’re both safe. I don’t know what I would have done,” she said. “It’s just crazy. I don’t even know what this meant!”

Duncan and Methos exchanged a long look.

“This better be good,” Methos mumbled. “My feet are soaked.”

“Let me see,” Duncan asked, and he took the envelope and letter from Amanda’s hand. Reading the letter only cleared up part of the confusion. “Who’s Curtis Asper? And what’s this tea?”

“I know!” Amanda complained. “What sort of a person kidnaps your friends and then demands tea? It’s not like it’s the seventeenth century or anything, they sell tea in the supermarket and on the internet.”

“What sort of person puts their name in the ransom letter?” Methos asked quietly as Duncan handed over the letter to him. He read the letter quickly. “Well, then,” he finally said.

Duncan and Amanda both turned quizzical faces to him. “Go on,” said Amanda, “you look like you know something.”

“The letter is really quite clear. Mr. Curtis Asper, your would-be employer, wants you to obtain some of the tea of immortality, forthwith. And to ensure your cooperation, he’s kidnapped your boyfriend.” Methos smirked and waggled his eyebrows at Duncan. “That’d be you.”

Duncan snatched the letter back. “That was obvious,” he said, waving the letter about.

“Yes, obvious!” Amanda echoed. “It’s the tea part I don’t understand. You can order Tea of the Immortal on the internet!”

“Do you know this Curtis Asper?” Duncan demanded.

“No, I don’t know him. It’s either a pseudonym, or else the man is rich enough not to care. I’d guess both.” Methos rolled his eyes. “As for the tea, he doesn’t mean the green tea named for the monk who achieved nirvana that anyone can order. He desires something else. I’m not surprised neither of you has heard of it, though I’m surprised Mr. Asper has. It’s been a long buried secret, and not a lot of people talk about it.”

“Oooh, a secret,” said Amanda, her eyes shining. She leaned forward in her chair.

“Way back when the British and the Chinese were trading silver and opium for tea—“

Duncan smiled. “The clipper ship races. Those were exciting days.”

“—anyways, way back then, it was all about volume. Quantity. More tea.”

“We remember,” Amanda said, and crossed her arms across her chest with a raised eyebrow, as if to say they were all old enough to have been there.

“But, of course, the true tea connoisseurs didn’t care for the mass market stuff. The most desirous tea was from the rarest air, the high mountains, where the flavor of the leaves was the most intense.”

“We all know what makes good tea, Methos,” Duncan reminded him. “Get to the point.”

“There was one tree,” Methos said, “that was supposedly the highest. High enough that the tree shouldn’t even have been able to survive there. With yield so low, they picked it once a year, and a good yield would be about twenty leaves. That tree, supposedly, was so special, with such perfect flavor and impossible conditions, that its leaves conferred immortality on whomever drank the tea made from them.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“That’d be a very precious commodity,” Duncan finally said.

“And worth a ransom,” said Amanda. She looked thoughtful. “And it explains why Asper would go to the trouble of kidnapping you. Assuming he isn’t aware of our being immortal already, I’d need a very good reason not to find the tea and drink it myself, and maybe take the money and run.”

“So we were supposed to be insurance as well as incentive,” Duncan said.

“So now what?”

“Let’s get the tea,” Amanda suggested. “If the tree is still there.”

“Let’s find this Asper and knock some sense into him,” Duncan said, with a twist of his fist in his other hand. “If we don’t stop him, he’ll just move on to try persuading someone else.”

“Does the tea really exist,” Amanda asked, “or is it just legend?”

“It really does exist, although I don’t know if it could actually make someone immortal or not.” Methos yawned. “And that tranquilizer stuff is wreaking havoc with my head, I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

“My adrenaline’s about gone, too,” Duncan admitted. Methos’ yawn had made him feel suddenly like he’d been lugging a piano around all day on his back. “But what good does it do if we find the actual tea leaves that Asper wants? We could just say we collected it, and then go and take care of him.”

Methos shrugged. “I’d guess that he’s got people watching to see what Amanda does. If he knows about the tea at all, he probably knows vaguely where some of it is. Given he wanted Amanda to do the job, there’s some of it sitting in a vault some place. We can assume that if we try to pass off regular old tea that he’ll know it’s a fake.”

Amanda turned solemn eyes on Duncan. “And next time he might kidnap someone who isn’t like us. Someone who could be hurt.” She twisted the hem of her dress in one hand, and Duncan knew she was thinking of all her mortal friends.

Duncan thought about all the vulnerable mortals that he cared for, and he sighed. “So, are we all agreed? Tomorrow we go find some of this tea? And then we take care of this Asper?”

“Where can we get some of the tea, Methos?” Amanda tilted her head, and looked ready to break into Fort Knox.

“The only place I know of, is to go back to the source. The tea tree itself. China.”

~~~

Even with their various connections and deep pockets, it took almost a week for them to get flights, pack, and make general arrangements. For once, Duncan thought, they weren’t going to have to steal something out of an impenetrable safe. Methos’ account had the tree being just off the beaten path near a well established tea plantation, in a lonely little spot so unloved that no one would give them any trouble. Of course, he’d been there over seventy-five years ago, and Duncan had his doubts. It was a long time for a tree to sit by itself.

It took three planes and two busses to get them even remotely close to the mountain. Then, they walked.

The population thinned out, and the few people they encountered stopped to stare at them as they made their way. Surprised colored their faces when one of them spoke—Methos was much better at dialects—but both Duncan and Amanda had a good grasp of several different languages, and between the three of them, they could communicate moderately effectively.

“It’s been years since I’ve been out of the cities,” Amanda observed with a dreamy look to her face as they trudged along. “The beauty of the land, I’d almost forgotten how majestic it can be. How powerful.”

“And poor and rural,” Duncan said as they passed a small village. “It can be a very hard life here.”

Methos kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.

It took two days of walking before they trudged up to the fork in the road.

“How is it that you know where this mysterious and completely hitherto unknown tree is?” Duncan asked as they hiked uncounted miles.

“I know stuff,” Methos said. After a long pause, he added, “Eventually even what you thought was a useless piece of knowledge sometimes comes in handy.”

“Huh,” Duncan said noncommittally. They hiked on.

After a while, the land sloped and they hiked up.

“The tea plantations are that way,” Methos explained. “We take this one.” He pointed to the smaller road, which narrowed even as Duncan gazed down its length.

As the elevation rose, the air thinned out, and vegetation got shorter and scrubbier. They had to scramble over rough terrain to stay on what remained of the trail, until eventually there was no trail, only a rough guess of how to keep climbing higher.

Eventually, they got there.

“That’s it,” Methos said, and pointed.

It was a stunted tree with grape-vine style roots clinging to its place on a thick ledge, but the spot itself was lush. Water flowed down the rocks, keeping the thick mossy dirt moist, but well drained, and the ledge was positioned such that the sun hit it all day, and the heat would be trapped within the space.

“No one cultivated that tree,” Duncan observed.

“No,” Amanda agreed, with a hint of sudden fondness in her voice. “It grew there all by itself, and it’s making the best of things.”

“Kind of like us,” Duncan said, and gave Amanda a one armed sideways hug.

Methos rolled his eyes, then brought out a small bag of kindling, charcoal, and a small iron pan. “Once I pick the leaves, they’ll start to ferment. We’ll need to heat them to stop that. Duncan, build a fire, and once we’re ready, I’ll pluck some leaves.” He scrutinized the tree. “It’s quite wild, and this isn’t the best time of year to harvest, but I think we’ll be able to salvage some newer leaves.”

Duncan set to work, trusting that Methos knew what he was doing, and by the early evening he had acceptable coals. Methos plucked carefully, and all told, there were about fifteen leaves, and they heated them gently in the iron pan to dry them. When they were dry, Methos removed them and with nimble fingers, did a little rolling trick to twist the leaves. Then he safely tucked them away in a soft fabric bag.

Duncan put out the fire—he certainly didn’t want to be the one to cause the mountain to go up in flames—and considered the sun. “We don’t have much daylight left.”

“I don’t want to sleep up here, it’ll be wretchedly cold,” Amanda said. “Besides, it’s almost a full moon tonight. We should be able to see.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at Methos, who shrugged, and they set off.

~~~

The first thing they did when they finally got back home was to catch up on much needed rest, and take long, hot showers.

“I think I’ll burn this,” Duncan said, holding up his pair of shorts which had just traveled the globe with him.

“Add these to the fire,” Methos said, and flung a pair of dirty, smelly socks at him.

Duncan dodged. “Burn your own socks,” he said.

~~~

The next day, back in Amanda’s apartment, they gathered around the small satchel of dried leaves.

“That’s paltry,” Amanda said. “Even for something worth its weight in precious gems, it’s miniscule.”

“Did you follow the instructions he gave for contacting him?” Duncan asked, business-like, even as he eyed the tea. What worried him was that Amanda was right. It was paltry. Even something as rare and unobtainable as this tea should look a little more substantial. He considered beefing it up with some additional full-leaf store bought tea. Who would know?

“I did,” Amanda said.

Duncan considered the tea again. “Do we even know this tea does what it is supposed to do?” he asked.

Amanda and Methos exchanged nervous looks.

“No,” Methos admitted. At Duncan’s glare he held up placating hands. “You wanted the leaves, I got you the leaves. It’s not like I could test the tea on myself, now could I?”

“He has a point,” Amanda said. “We couldn’t test it on ourselves even if we wanted to. Or had enough to spare.”

The three of them contemplated that for awhile.

“What if he drinks it and it doesn’t make him immortal?” Amanda finally asked.

“What if it does?” Methos countered.

“Who said we’re letting him drink the tea?” Duncan said.

~~~

The drop information came by delivery the next day. Amanda was to go to the park, sit on a bench, and wait for someone to come by. She would hand it off, and that’d be that.

Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Park bench?”

“Wear something durable,” Methos suggested. “And washable.”

“I hear there’s a pigeon overpopulation problem this year,” Duncan added.

“Ahh!” Amanda threw up her arms, and went to inspect her closet.

~~~

The next day, Amanda waited on the bench, and Methos and Duncan hid nearby in the bushes. They weren’t worried about Amanda, she could take care of herself. They had bigger fish to fry.

After an hour of standing in dew-laden grass, hunched and waiting, Methos complained, “Too bad he didn’t ask for her to mail it to him. We could have just poisoned the tea and been done with him. I know lots of poisons.”

“It could have been lost in the mail,” Duncan pointed out.

“No one trusts the postal service anymore,” Methos lamented. “It’s not like we’re actually giving him the real tea, anyway.”

“Just keep your eyes on Amanda,” Duncan said with a slight shake of his head. It was like keeping watch with a five year old.

Eventually a thin flaxen-haired man sauntered near Amanda. Something about the way he looked put Duncan in mind of the second kidnapper. Amanda held out the sachet with an air of nonchalance, and utter disdain.

The man reached for it, and she pulled her hand back. She glared up at him.

“Tell your boss,” she spoke with earnest menace, “if he tries kidnapping any of my friends again, he’s going to find himself in a very bad situation. And he owes me for my services.” She looked down her nose at the man, which was a feat because she was still sitting. She swung the sachet back into range, and the man grabbed it, and strode away.

Duncan and Methos followed.

The chase finally ended at an up-town high rise where the apartments were only for the well-to-do. The kidnapper took the elevator all the way to the penthouse.

Duncan grinned. He flipped open his phone and called Amanda. “I found him.”

Fifteen minutes later, Duncan hit the button for the top, and they waited.

“Do you think he’s had time to brew the tea yet?” Amanda asked.

“Let’s find out,” Duncan said as the top button lit up and the doors slid open. An older man, who Duncan suspected would have a rougher voice, was in the hallway. “Remember me?” Duncan asked as he pulled out his tranquilizer gun and shot the man.

He went down hard.

Methos patted him down and found the door keys. “Here we go,” he said, his voice light. He unlocked the door, staying low, and Duncan shot two more guards.

Amanda picked off a maid, who had a very snub-nosed semi-auto hidden in her apron, and Methos had his weapon trained on the obvious head of all the trouble.

“Hi,” Amanda said and wiggled her fingers. “I thought we should meet. I didn’t trust your lackey to give you my message.” She flourished a piece of paper out of her pocket. “And I wanted reimbursement for expenses,” she said in a stern tone as she slapped the paper down on a nearby table.

“Curtis Asper?” Duncan asked. The man before him was in his early fifties, with mean eyes, and a small mouth, and a receding chin. A few extra pounds were packed onto his belly, but his clothes were expensive and cut brilliantly so the weight was well hidden.

“Whoever you are, you’re going to regret his,” he snarled. “I have more men, and the police will be here soon.”

“Found the tea,” Methos said, holding up the sachet. He’d circled around to the area behind Asper. Behind them the distinctive sound of a kettle whistling started. Methos smirked and went to turn the stove off.

“Guess you didn’t have time to drink it yet. Pity,” said Duncan.

“Let’s try an experiment,” said Methos suddenly. “Solve this problem once and for all.” He found the tea accoutrements. With a stage magician’s flourishes, he poured the hot water, warmed the tea pot, dumped it out, and only then did he actually brew the precious packet of leaves.

They all stared at each other, Asper’s teeth audibly grinding, as the brewing minutes ticked by.

“There we go, all ready to taste.” Methos removed the tea from the water. He closed his eyes and sniffed the fragrance of the steam from the pot. “Smells divine. Smells immortal.” He produced a small earthenware cup. “Shall we see how it is?”

“Oooh!” Amanda said and made a small clapping motion. “This’ll be fun.”

Methos poured the tea into the cup, took another long moment to savor the scented steam, and then took a mouthful. “Not bad,” he said, and passed the cup over to Amanda.

Amanda, with her eyes boring into Asper’s, took a delicate sip. “Yummy.” She passed it to Duncan.

“Not much left,” Duncan said. Then he took a very small taste of the liquid. He put the cup down on the table between him and Asper. “Still a little left.”

Asper looked at each of them, swinging his head around, as if he couldn’t believe that he would actually get some of the tea. Hesitantly he put out a hand and slowly pulled back the cup. When no one shot him full of tranquilizer, he gulped what was left of the tea. He wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. “Now what?” he snarled. “There. I drank the tea. I won’t bother your friends again.”

Amanda was playing with the lady’s semi-automatic that she’d taken off the maid. “But did it work?” she asked. “Let’s find out.” She raised the gun and fired off two shots at Methos, hitting him in the chest, and he went down with a thud.

“Fuck!” Asper yelled, stepping back, and crouching down. He looked at Amanda with panic. “You’re insane! He was your friend!”

“Amanda!” Duncan said. “What did you just do?”

“We had to find out if the tea worked,” Amanda said and shrugged. She scowled at Asper. “Just in case you thought I was a soft touch. I’m not. And if you mess with me or mine again, I won’t humor you a second time.”

“I swear!” Asper said, although what he was swearing to was entirely unclear. “I promise!” He crossed his heart with his finger ten times in rapid succession.

Methos sucked in some air, gasping, and sat up. He felt his chest with both hands. “Shit,” he said, and turned unbelieving eyes to Amanda and Duncan. “I’m alive!” He got to his feet and did a little dance, still rubbing his chest. “I can’t believe it. Wow. This is…wow.” He danced around a little more. Then he turned to Amanda accusingly. “You shot me!”

“Just a little.” Amanda smiled prettily. “Guess it worked. Good tea.” She looked at Duncan. “Grab your friend and let’s get the hell out of here.”

Asper was staring at Methos, pointing with a trembling hand. “He was dead. He was. She shot him.” He was talking to himself, and clutching the earthenware cup. “And he got up.” His eyes had grown huge.

“After you,” Duncan said, straight-faced, with a gracious wave of his hand.

“Thank you, darling,” Amanda said. She wiped the little gun clean of fingerprints with a handkerchief, and tossed it into the far corner of the room. “Don’t forget the bill. Airfare to China doesn’t come cheap,” she said to Asper as she sashayed out the door.

Duncan and Methos gave each other a wild grin as they turned their backs on Asper and dashed out the door.

They managed not to start laughing until they were halfway down the staircase, and finally the outburst subsided as they scrambled across the street to their car.

“How long do you think before he tries shooting himself?” Methos asked.

Amanda paused to gracefully lower herself onto the front passenger seat, and then with great nonchalance, said, “I hope he waits long enough to pay our expenses first.”

~end~


End file.
